


Red Carpet Romance

by Moonlessmondays



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I AM HERE FOR IT, Sierra and alice brotp, Smut, i will add ships as i go along, riverkids are most probably highly likely not included
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlessmondays/pseuds/Moonlessmondays
Summary: “She needed to jumpstart her career back to life, and he needed the exposure to start his. They need each other to make it happen. But what happens when the ghosts of the past and the secrets of the present turn this into something more intimate than they’d anticipated? Will they be ready to start something new or keep this as what it is... nothing but a red carpet romance?|| Falice Modern AU”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All disclaimers apply. Total and complete AU. Dont come at me for OOC.
> 
> A bit on the short side for now

**Chapter One**

  
  


“ _ Are you high on fumes _ ?!” Alice Smith bursts out, anger tingeing her voice as she throws a look of contempt and bewilderment at Sierra Mccoy, the woman who is now sitting across the room coolly and with an expression she has yet to determine. She sucks in harsh, deep breaths while she paces the room, her too-high heels clicking against the wooden floor, her arms crossed against her chest. 

She has to be kidding, Alice thinks bitterly. She gives Sierra another glare while the other woman only shakes her head and looks at Alice with a nonplussed expression. Out of all the people Alice knows, Sierra might be the only one who actually tries to meet her head on and gain some actual results. Most of the people who  _ dare _ do the same only gets flattened by her sarcasm, and it’s probably why she respects Sierra more than she does anyone in the industry. 

It might be also why she’s been tagged _Acid_ _Queen_ by the press—not that she gives a damn at all anymore, having been called a variety of names in the past, some more colorful than just that, and honestly, being in the industry means having to develop a thicker skin than that, so really, she doesn’t care. 

She turns her attention back at Sierra whose shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, her expression turning passive and her voice turning into pacifying, something that Alice really,  _ really _ hates.

“Just think about it for a moment, Alice,” Sierra says, her tone pleading, and her eyes daring Alice to interrupt. Alice raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything otherwise. “You’re recently divorced, and your husband has taken up with another woman with  _ less _ than flowery words to say about  _ you _ .”

Alice’s nostrils flare at the thought, and suddenly, she feels like murdering her husband, well  **_ex_ ** now fortunately. She couldn’t really understand the audacity of the man to even  _ think _ about talking about her after he’d cheated on  _ her _ with that melted, ten cent trollop he’s now  _ dating _ .

“This will help improve your image,” Sierra explains, still trying to overcome Alice’s objections to this ridiculous idea. As if. “It’s not going to be real, and it isn’t like it’s the first time you had to pull your weight or fabricate anything. Your whole image is fake.” Sierra points out the fact with a modicum of airy snark that grates on Alice’s nerves. 

Sure, she’s the small town girl who had gotten lucky, got a big break and married to a good family, it doesn’t mean that Alice hadn’t persevered to get where she is now. She has worked hard, too, and whatever good graces she’s reaping now, she’d sowed the seeds herself.  She won’t be where she is now if she hadn’t worked as hard to get there. But sure, Sierra is right, nothing about who she is now is real.

“Come on, Alice, it’s just for a while until this whole Hal issue dies down and then you both can release a message that you were happy while your relationship lasted and you’ll always have a special place in each other’s heart but it’s time for you both to go your separate ways, and that you’ll remain friends, but your romance has reached the end of its line. It’s not that hard,” Sierra continues as Alice continues to look at her as though she has just lost her mind. Maybe she has, because Alice has yet to see what good it will do to her to be in a fake relationship with a deadline. Seriously. “And it’ll be over before you know it.”

For a brief second, Alice imagines what it would be like to do as Sierra as planned. The surprise on Hal’s face would be something Alice is willing to pay for, and that alone  _ can _ be worth it. But it’s still a crazy idea and she’s not truly convinced it will do her any good. 

Alice rolls her eyes and breathes in deeply, sure that she will regret it less than five minutes after asking. “Let’s say I entertain this stupid idea, and I am not saying I am because there is no way in hell you can convince me that this is a good idea  _ at all,”  _ she begins, watching as Sierra’s lips stretch into a smile, growing into a full on beam and Alice rolls her eyes again to stop herself from coming over to her friend and slapping that smug grin. “Who am I going to be in a fake relationship with?”

“I’m glad you asked....”

With the way Sierra is smiling at her like the cat that at the canary, Alice already regrets asking the question.

**...**

 

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the second has a lot of things to be grateful for. He hasn’t always had the best of luck, but when luck had turned around for him, it had turned around big time, and his life has turned around along with it. 

He supposed he considers himself lucky, and behind all of those luck is the one friend he has that hasn’t turned his back on him. FP knows he owes a lot to one man, and that man is Fred Andrews. He hasn’t always been the best friend in the world, yet Fred has stuck with him through it, even through his recent, however brief, stint in prison. Fred had made sure to take care of FP’s affairs for him, made sure everything is alright where FP can no longer reach behind bars.

They have been friends longer than FP can remember, dating back to when they’d been in diapers, living two blocks away from each other, but with their Fathers having been friends before them, had grown up side by side. Fred has always been extremely generous, has always been smart and helping to keep FP out of trouble. He has been the best friend FP could ever ask for. 

Right now, though, FP wants nothing more than to sock Fred Andrews in the jaw to see if he could violently jolt back sanity into his friend.

“Dumbass!” he exclaims, throwing Fred a look of disbelief. He’s not entirely sure Fred is hearing himself right at the moment, and FP is tempted, oh so tempted, to see if maybe hitting him would restart his cognitive functions. “How is that even...are you hearing yourself right now?”

Fred sighs and rubs his thumb and forefinger against his forehead, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to again and focusing them his sight on FP. FP looks at him with a bit of doubt...nope, a  _ lot _ of doubt. “I can hear myself, FP, yes, and I think this is the best idea we have had so far to really jumpstart our band.”

FP looks at him as if he’s saying something ridiculous (he  _ is _ ). “We don’t need that kind of shit, Fred, and you know it,” FP argues. “We’re doing pretty well. We both knew this was going to be a steep climb, but at least we’re still climbing.”

“I know that,” Fred agrees, and at least there is something they are agreeing on. “But the thing is, we need to get a record deal with a better recording company because producing independently is really difficult, and this...this will help us get noticed. We’re already being noticed, I know, but we need a bit more exposure.”

“A bit more exposure? And you think a fake relationship with a has-been actress will help us get that exposure? Are you serious?” FP asks, chuckling, because despite being royally pissed at the stupid suggestion initially, he’s now finding the humour in it. It actually  _ is _ hilarious.

“FP, this is important,” Fred tells him in his no nonsense tone, and FP stops laughing abruptly, stares at his friend distastefully. 

“So why don’t you do it then, if this is so important?” he asks and it’s genuine curiosity and not just irony that prompts him to ask the question.

“Because I’m married?” Fred tells him, though posing the statement more as a question, and yes, of course, that is technically true, even if they aren’t really living together anymore. “Besides you’re the face of the band, it has to be you. It won’t matter to anyone that the guitarist of some Indie band is dating an actress...but if it’s the vocalist, then maybe they’d actually pay attention.”

FP’s eyebrow raises at that. “ _ Maybe?” _ he asks, voice rising in incredulity. “You mean you’re pimping me out for some shit red carpet romance for a  _ maybe they’ll pay fucking attention. Are you fucking kidding me Frederick?” _

Fred throws his hands up in defeat and shakes his head. “You  _ will _ get noticed, of course. A nobody dating a somebody will always get noticed, I’m just saying, hypothetically you will, and that’s our goal.”

FP knows he shouldn’t even entertain the thought. It’s absolutely insane, and he doesn’t really see the point to it, but say he does, knowing he will end up regretting it...he asks the question.

“For the record, I still think it’s a horribly stupid idea, but let’s say I agreed,” he begins and then instantly regrets it when Fred starts smiling like the idiot that he is, and FP fights to breathe through his annoyance, clenching his fists and unclenching it in an effort to stay calm. “Who is it going to be?”

Fred raises his hand and scratches behind his head, a pained expression painting his face, and FP knows this has turned from a bad idea to the  _ worst _ idea. “That’s the thing...”

FP can tell they’re doomed before they even start.

**...**

 

This is a horrible idea. A very horrible idea that she should have never agreed to, and still isn’t quite sure why she had. She can’t believe it. In retrospect, she blames Sierra and her uncanny ability to convince Alice of things that Alice doesn’t particularly believe to be good ideas. 

Of course, Sierra had used the jumpstart your career back to life card, and Alice being almost desperate to try anything to get back to the swing of things and get back to her craft instead of wallowing in self pity and being in the middle of the issues she is dealing with right now (they are all old news to her and honestly she’s over it faster than she is supposed to—though it’s not hard having been married to the colossal asshole she’s been married to for the past seven years), had fallen right into the trap and had agreed to  _ consider  _ it. Now, she’s meeting with her supposed new  _ fling _ , and she’s nervous as fuck. The anxiety is building up inside her, the endless possibilities of how this meeting will go running in her head on a loop. Each scenario comes much, much worse than the last, making her nerves all frayed.

“Here,” Sierra says, handing her a cup of coffee that she  _ really _ doesn’t need anymore, but accepts anyway because who is she to deny herself? “It’s not to ease your nerves.” They both know it’s lost cause at this point. “But it’s for you to have something to do.” Smart planning.

“Thanks,” Alice mumbles as she matches Sierra’s pace as they walk into the building of Sierra’s office. Alice rarely ever comes into the office of Lodges Co., letting Sierra deal with most of the office work that she doesn’t really need to get her hands on. If she has to meet with her staff, she holds it in her house, in that white colonial she’s swiped off of her ex husband’s hands, which serves him just right. 

“Good morning ma’am.” 

“Good morning, Smithers,” Alice and Sierra greet the old man guarding the reception back, both of them smiling back at the man before making their way up to Sierra’s office where their partners in this crime are waiting.

It still isn’t a good idea as far as Alice is concerned, but what the hell, she’s here, might as well just keep it up, right?

Nope, her brain tells her, because there is no way this would end well to anyone concerned, but at this point, she knows it’s too late to back down.

God, she’d gotten herself in such a situation, even she’s not sure if there is a way out.

“You cannot back down now, Al,” Sierra mutters as they near her office. 

Sierra Mccoy has always prided herself on being tasteful and minimalist, and though Alice does not always agree that Sierra can be a minimalist (hello, leopard print rug), she can agree that Sierra is almost always tasteful. Her office has always been a great reflection of that, from the expensive cherry wood furniture to the monochromatic painted walls, to the glass walls that surrounded the space. It’s a beautiful office, but right now, it’s such a dreadful space that Alice can’t help but groan when she sees it, groaning again and louder when she sees the two men already waiting for them inside.

“Sierra,” she whines, and Sierra only throws her a look to shut her up, though she retaliates with a look of her own—unimpressed and pissed.

What has her friend gotten her into?

A horrible, horrible plan, that is—that’s what her friend has gotten her into. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would've thought that after almost twenty years, I would be able to update. Happy Holidays Fam! Enjoy!

**Chapter Two**

FP Jones has never been more sure of anything in his life. 

This is a mistake. A big, colossal, rather  idiotic mistake that he still couldn't very well understand how he got himself into.

To be fair on himself, he hasn’t quite agreed to this willingly. There'd been a lot of arguments and cursing. Hell, there had been so much cursing, FP could have given his own father a run for his money--if only his father had any that he didn't spend on alcohol and gambling. There had been more cursing when he had found out who it was that he's supposed to fake a romance with.

Nevertheless, no matter the journey, the destination had been pretty much the same. And here he is now, in an elevator ride on his way to Sierra Mccoy's office. Against his will, of course, but here he is.

He fidgets, shifts from foot to foot, seemingly unable to stand still as the bile rises up his throat from his stomach. He isn't an anxious person by any means, used to performing to a crowd as he is, but today there are butterflies fluttering in his stomach and he thinks he might vomit or explode, or maybe even both.

He tries of all the sound arguments Fred had made a few days before, but none comes to mind. This is an absolutely ludicrous idea, and he doesn’t know why he's even entertained it, much less allow it to happen (safe to say, it hasn't been the person on the other end of this rather short stick that's convinced him, not at all).

"It's too late to back out now, FP," Fred murmurs without compunction as he stands beside him looking straight ahead.

 FP wants to rip him a new one, just give him a shiner just this once, for some reason unknown to him, but he knows it is heavily connected to the situation they have found themselves in. He almost wishes Fred would say something more and give him a good reason to punch him in the face. He’s not quite sure where his anger is coming from, and he can almost guarantee that his anger is misplaced, but he feels hopeless in this situation and it’s just so much easier to be angry.

“Fuck off,” is his only response, which makes Fred chuckle, shaking his head just as the doors open.

They step out of the elevator, with FP dragging his feet and wishing he is elsewhere. He sighs in relief, however, when he finds Sierra Mccoy’s office still empty. It’s a momentary relief, a still in time when he is able to just sit and think through whatever is happening to and around him.

Silence falls between them and FP is almost thankful. It won’t take much for him to be triggered right now, and he doesn’t want to have a go at Fred right here. And he honestly wouldn’t need much of an excuse to do it. Again, his anger is most definitely misplaced, but it’s not all that unjustified. After all, he’s the one being pimped out, regardless of the cause, and he’s supposed to take it smoothly and not have any kind of discomfort or frustration over it.

Right.

It’s not too long before FP spies the owner of the office and the actress in question from outside the office. The walls are made of glass, and it’s not that hard to figure out that it’s them. From beside him, he hears Fred mutter something about them arriving, but it isn’t like he doesn’t know that.

Alice Cooper isn’t exactly inconspicuous and FP does watch some TV.

The glass door opens, and Sierra Mccoy is all smiles as she enters the office, Alice trailing quietly behind her. Both FP and Fred stand up to greet the women, Sierra leading the introductions as she extends a hand and offers it to Fred, then FP. Both men shake her proffered hand, and only take a seat when both women have taken theirs.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sierra greets pleasantly, though FP doesn’t spare her a glance. His eyes are trained on the blonde woman in front of him who wishes she were anywhere but here.

The feeling is very much mutual.

“I hope you didn’t wait long,” Sierra says, her smile voice still even and pleasant. She looks as put together as her office, and it makes FP wonder where on earth Fred even met this woman. She definitely doesn’t look like she runs on the same social circles that he or Fred runs on.

But then again, so does the actress in front of him who still hasn’t looked at him, her gaze pointedly nailed on the floor.

Fred shakes his head and smiles. “Not very long, Sierra,” he tells the woman, and they’re even on the first name basis—which is...well surprising. It’s such a small world after all.

“Good, how’s Mary?” she asks, and _ah,_ that’s where the connection comes from. They continue to talk shop for a while, while FP and Alice kept quiet. There isn’t anything to be said until Sierra and Fred address them, he supposes.

“Well, I hate to interrupt this lovely reunion, but can we start what we came here for?” Alice, who has been quiet from the moment she stepped foot on the office floor, says in sass and in question, making Sierra look at her sharply.

FP fights the urge to smirk. “Yeah, why don’t we get started?” He can’t resist adding his two cents in, the first time he talked the moment he stepped foot in here as well.

**. . . . .**

 

It should be painfully obvious how much Alice doesn’t want to be here. And she sure as hell doesn’t want to stay long, sitting here listening to Sierra and _that_ Fred Andrews talk about things that aren’t even remotely related to what they’d come here for. She also doesn’t want to do that while the man in front of her is staring at her like he can read what’s going on her mind, despite the fact that she has pointedly avoided his stare.

It’s unnerving.

It takes more than just a little restraint to not snap and then walk out, but she manages to choke out the question without hurting anyone. It sounds snooty even to her own ear, but then again, she hadn’t earned her Diva status by being a doormat.

Sierra shoots her a look that’s telling her to behave, but Alice ignores it, sending her a look that expresses how much fuck she gives...which is none, to speak frankly.

The smirk that pulls on the corner of _his_ lips irritates her (and she refuses to address him with anything but pronouns until they are fully introduced, not even in her mind), but it’s clear to her that he’s rather amused by her antics. Sierra is less than pleased, and Fred...well he’s not used to her being a diva, so he jumps into the introductions, not that Alice needs any. She’s read as much as she possibly can scour on the internet for these two, their band, and their lives. There isn’t much and she’d had a hard time finding information about them through the web, but she knows enough to forego the introduction. She doesn’t say that though, only looks on as Fred tells her what they are aiming for in this supposed joint venture.

She knows that already, and the look Sierra sends her way tells her that she might know that already, but she needs to shut the fuck up.

So she does.

And she squirms as she does, because _he_ —FP, as Fred points out—is looking at her intently, as though he is trying to read her. He hasn’t let up since she’d stepped foot in Sierra’s office, and the look he’s giving her is neither telling nor comfortable, and she wonders what it is that he is thinking. His stare is pointed even as they shake hands, barely touching, but enough to send a jolt through her spine. He looks at her curiously, then, and she wonders if he has felt it, too.

She wonders if he knows exactly what he is getting himself into. Somehow, she doubts it.

He knows her, of course. There is not a whole lot of people who don’t, with a string successful movies she has starred in, but her light has faded some in the last few years as she’d found difficulty landing roles. It’s due to the rise of younger, prettier actresses, and the reputation she had unfairly gained for being a diva. To be fair, the time those rumours of her being difficult to work with had started when the world as she had known it started to unravel around her. Her husband had been cold and distant, ending up with him taking with that...well, other woman, and God knows what other activities he’d been indulging in since. There had been a lot of family issues surrounding that moment in her life, and though she worked and worked to keep mind off things, it’d been hard, and sometimes when days are particularly hard...she hadn’t been the best person to be around, to put it mildly.

Not that FP knows that about her. Not many people do, anyway. Her latest stint of being dumped by her good for nothing ex husband had shone some light back on her dimming career, and she supposes that bit everyone knows, but beyond that, she doubts much about her is _that_ known. As Sierra has so unkindly pointed out to her, her whole image is fabricated. She’d shown so much of herself to the public, true, but only the parts she’d wanted to show.

So FP knows her, sure, but he doesn’t _really, truly_ know her.

“Alice?” she hears Sierra’s voice break through her trance, and her head snaps up to look at her manager, puzzled. She hasn’t been listening and the bewilderment is clear on her face. Sierra looks at her disapprovingly, but mercifully saves her the embarrassment of admitting that she isn’t listening and asking for the question to be repeated. “I was asking if it’s okay with you that we start on with this publicity stunt by the end of the week.”

Alice looks at her manager in shock. She is perplexed. She doesn’t know why it has to be that quick. She doesn’t even know much about FP, or whatever. At least she thinks she doesn’t and she is not prepared to do this yet.

“What? That soon?” she asks. She still doesn’t understand why she needs to do this, and now she has to understand why it has to be that soon.

“Well, you know we need to land you that role...and it’s better that they get a whiff of your name right off the bat, so that they’d consider you,” Sierra explains. Alice needs a little bit more than that to understand how her supposed love life would help her land a role. She’s a good actress, she knows as much, and she can prove that she deserves the role through merit. “It’ll put you on the papers, since you know...it’s the first date you’ll be in since your divorce, and though you can totally land the role with just your talent, it won’t hurt for you to already be gaining attention.”

Alice feels frustration flow through her veins with a force. It’s frustrating how show business works. It’s like Sierra is saying that talent isn’t enough, and looking at where she is now and knowing why she’s here right now, she knows Sierra is right. It’s not enough. Not always.

“Besides, we’re hoping to sign a new record label and get to the studio for a new album before the year ends. We know it’s a bit ambitious to want a record deal right away, but if we gain more publicity, then there’s a chance someone would bet on us already,” Fred adds as Sierra nods with a smile.

Sure, sell their soul to the devil that is publicity for a _maybe._

Alice wonders what FP thinks about all of this, but he’s remained stubbornly quiet in the last hour, and apart from appraising her like some property he might consider buying, he hasn’t said anything. He doesn’t look all that thrilled about this fake relationship thing though, so maybe they are both on the same page.

Alice shrugs, feeling caught between a rock and hard place. “I guess,” she replies then, trying to sound and feel indifferent. She’s an actress, she can act like a lovelorn teenager for a few months, just until she signs a deal with the role she wants to get, and these guys get an offer from a record label. “If it’s good for...you all, then I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” Sure, she can do this.

She has to.

. . . . .

So they’re really doing this.

FP hadn’t really thought Alice would go through it. She’s a high strung has been actress who has had a great run in her prime with a lot of great movies she’d starred in, and is now chasing after the limelight after a string of bad press. He doesn’t mean that to offend, but simply put his mind into perspective.

He had not thought she would do it.

 So he’s surprised, but pleasantly so, and he glances at her, trying to gauge how she’s feeling about all of this. She’s a great actress, he gives her that, as she keeps a poker face, keeping at bay whatever true feelings she might have over all of this.

He feels a nudge to his side, and he shifts his gaze to Fred who is looking like he might combust in a second—now Fred is a guy who can’t act to save his life, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and any subtle change in his feelings can be readily witnessed through his eyes and expression. FP looks at him and shrugs. What does Fred want him to say? It seems like a pretty sealed deal from the get go anyway.

“Forsythe?” It is Sierra that asks the question and FP flinches at the use of the name. Forsythe Jones was his old man, he’s just FP Jones, thank you very much.

“It’s fine,” he says with a wave of his hand, because there isn’t anything else to add, really. “Whatever is fine.”

Sierra’s eyebrow rise, Alice’s lips quirk, and Fred clears his throat.

“What FP means to say is it’s a done deal, and we’re happy for the opportunity,” Fred supplies, and blah, blah, blah, that’s exactly what FP means anyway.

Sierra nods, and Alice looks like she is physically forcing herself to not say anything. She throws him a look that he cannot possibly misinterpret, and FP grins at her, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“I’m sure my manager will keep in touch with you and make sure everything goes smoothly,” Alice says, addressing him for the first time, and it almost shocks FP, but he maintains his gaze and levels her with a look that she _too_ , can’t misinterpret. She turns her head sideways and addresses her manager, instead. “Right, Sierra?”

Sierra opens her mouth, but then closes it quickly, choosing to nod instead as a reply.

It ends that conversation then, and all of them stand up to shake each other’s hand. Alice looks as though she might get cooties just touching skin with him, but he takes that with a grain of salt, because he’s not petty and he doesn’t care much for that attitude, but he’s not about to tell her off or anything, so he’ll take it.

He’ll take it for now.

**. . . . .**

Alice settles on her couch with a glass of her favourite wine. She doesn’t often indulge, not wanting to give in to the temptation to go on a bender for weeks on end and give her ex husband more ammunition to lambast her name. Maybe that’s why she’s been often called as stuck-up and stuffed shirt. She knows that people talk about her behind her back and say things that she doesn’t often want to hear. She consoles herself with the fact that they don’t know much about her life. She prides herself on that even. She might be a public personality, a celebrity, but she has a private life, and all her skeletons remain where they should be—inside her closet.

She has, after all, effectively cut herself off her old life and made a new one with Hal. One that doesn’t have the same baggage _and_ garbage as her old one.

She acknowledges and appreciates the fact that her reputation is in danger now that her ex-husband cannot seem to stop talking about her and her less than sterling wife-qualities. But of course, it made sense to her at the time, and still makes sense to have put her career before him. She had half the mind to put herself and invest in herself first, before investing in her relationship. Yes, it sounds selfish, in retrospect she realizes how she had been selfish in that regard, but it isn’t like she’d loved Hal. It’s easier to admit that, even to herself, now, because of all the shit Hal has put her through, but it’s the truth. She has tortured herself and punished herself enough for being with Hal, even knowing she didn’t love him, for a better life, and a better future, but she’d had to do what she had to do.

It isn’t like Hal had not gotten a good bargain in marrying her anyway. She had been a fresh and upcoming actress then and Hal had been a struggling actor that had come from a family heavily involved in the business one way or the other. Them paring up had been by chance, and that had blown up somewhat, making them land a few hit movies together and separately. They’d taken their onscreen relationship off screen, and when Hal had proposed, she accepted, fully well knowing she isn’t in love with him. The public had eaten that up, though, and that had exactly been the reaction she had anticipated. Their wedding had been a well expected one.  In  the midst of it, Hal’s career had been on a steady decline, though, while hers was steadily rising, and where she’d landed good roles that garnered her critical acclaim, Hal had become bitter and depressed.

Then her career went on a slow downward slope, and instead of comforting her, he’d been almost joyous. Misery _did_ love company, then he’d delivered the biggest blow by cheating on her on top of it all, and blaming her for it. She almost cannot believe how long she’s been able to last living with him, but she had.

To be fair, Hal had been somewhat attractive in their younger years—his eyes a greenish blue, his hair was fair and was styled in a way that had been the fad then, he’d been sweet and gullible, and he’d been easy to deal with—at first, or at least until his true colours showed.

In the end, he’s just a typical asshole that she’d married and struggled to live with because of the clout and because people thought they’d had the perfect marriage. How wrong they’d all been.  She hadn’t wanted to be part of gossip, or be in the centre of it, so playing the Stepford wife had been easier than facing the shame.

Maybe that makes her a bad person, a heartless one, maybe even a gold digger because he’d come from a good family and she stuck with him for that, but she’d made decisions that had been the best ones she could make at the time. She isn’t going to be regretful of it, she refuses to shame herself for it. There may be a lot of heartaches and things about herself that she’d worked hard to bury, only because it hurts so much to take them out and look at them, but she’s not going to shame herself for the things that made her who she is today, the way that Hal is doing.

So maybe, this is one of those times where she has to make a decision that is the best for her.

She realizes now that _this_ is precisely the same predicament. She’s about to be in a fake relationship to get her name out there again, to put her in a better light and give her some good publicity. In return, FP and his band will get the same publicity and recognition. This time, though, she doesn’t have to marry him to keep up with the façade. There is a contract that prevents it from going too far.

She’ll take that.

She’ll take that for now.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late but hope you all like it.

**Chapter Three**

The thing about FP is that he sticks out like a sore thumb. Despite his best efforts, he always has managed to be distinct and easily picked out from the crowd: from his humble beginnings in _Sunny side trailer park_ , or his days in high school in _Riverdale High School_ , or when his brief stint at the _Whyte Wyrm_ , or as a band member in Fred’s band, _Pearl Jam._

 

Even now, that remains to be his main problem as he makes his way to Alice Cooper’s residence, right at the heart of Los Angeles socialites, riding the cab and looking out the widow, feeling just a tad bit out of place.

  
From what he’d been told, the house that Mrs. Alice Cooper lives in now had been part of the divorce settlement she’d received from her ex husband. Knowing as much that the location of the house is a prime one, and without even seeing the house, he instinctively knows that it is nothing less than grand, simply from what he knows of Alice Cooper. It’s really no wonder why her ex has become very bitter over their divorce. Alice’s husband, as he seems like from what FP has gathered from the news and whatnot, seems like a right asshole and deserves to be ripped off by his wife in every way possible.

  
The thought makes FP smirk.

  
Before he could elaborate on his thoughts on Mrs. Cooper, the cab stops in front of the house on the address that’s been scribbled messily on a small piece of paper. It had been handed to him by Fred from Sierra, and FP knows without being told that there had been a good degree of reluctance from the other end before this was handed to him.

Amused, he shakes his head before fishing a few bills from his pocket and handing it to the cab driver. He opens the door and climbs out of the car, whistling lowly when the full extent of the mansion comes into his view. It is huge, by any standards, and it was stately. 

It looks pristine and clean, a white colonial in the middle of the varied styles of houses up and down the street. The property is huge and is gated, but it definitely isn’t the biggest there. In fact, FP could roughly guess that it is the smallest one there. That doesn’t mean much though, because it is still huge compared to the apartment he and Fred have cramped themselves in these days. Living in LA is expensive for them, it must be much more expensive for her living in this house.  
No wonder she really needs to get that role she wants and rake in some cash. Her life’s upkeep isn’t cheap by any means.

  
Putting one foot forward, he made quick steps towards the gate of her home. He would be lying if he says that he isn’t surprised she’s asked to meet at her home. It is surprising to him, knowing by looks alone that she’s not all that fond of him and the idea of dating him. He can’t blame her. Still, he is surprised she’d specifically asked for their first meeting on their own to be in her house. He initially had thought he would never step foot in it in his lifetime, which is fine by him, if he’s honest. The fact that he doesn’t belong here is only magnified by his rugged appearance in the pristine white and extremely expensive backdrop.

  
Breathing in deeply and rubbing his palms against the coarse material of his jeans, he gets rid of whatever apprehensions he might have and pushes the thought that this is good for him and the band inside his head. He isn’t so typically nervous and he still doesn’t fully agree to this, or even at all, but he also doesn’t want to fuck it up at this point. Fred wouldn’t forgive him, and such a simple a thing as this does not deserve to be on the list of the many things he has gone and fucked up so far.

  
He reaches out and touches the buzzer slightly, and then presses it down. He waits semi-patiently at the gate, shifting from foot to foot until he hears someone from the intercom. It’s her, and she doesn’t sound all that well.

  
“I’ll buzz you in,” she tells him without preamble, her voice sounding different to his ears.

  
He smirks ironically. “Well, hello to you too,” he drawls as he leans on one side and waits for her to buzz her in as she said.

  
She doesn’t reply to that, but the gates open at the next second, and FP sighs and shakes his head. He makes his way inside on foot, and immediately regrets sending the cab away. It isn’t much of a trek, but it is still a trek he could have avoided. It must be a full minute or two before he makes it to the door of her mansion, the driveway seems longer than it is, and he’s rolling his eyes to the heavens by the time he raises his hand to the door and knocks. Of course, she knows he is already here, she’s buzzed him in for Christ’s sakes, but still, she makes him knock, waits till she opens the door. When she does, she’s not looking too pleased, or even pleasant for that matter.

  
She is dressed to the nines, and he has known her to do so anyway, and she looks as put together as she always does on TV and that one time he’d met with her in Sierra’s office, but there is something off about her. The telltale signs of flu is visible in the way her nose is red, as well as the rims of her eyes, and she is clenching tissue tightly in her hands.

  
“You look terrible,” he blurts out, unable to stop himself. He doesn’t say it with the means to offend, but more like in surprise. He doesn’t understand why she hadn’t just cancelled on him. Her reason would have been valid.

  
“Thanks, hello to you too,” she says sarcastically, throwing his words right back at him. She must have heard him earlier.

  
He chuckles. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cooper, hello, how are you doing?” He says the words as politely as he can, but knows he is fooling no one. He smirks. “You look terrible.”

  
She rolls her eyes at him and gestures for her to come in, waving him in. She doesn’t say anything, but she does make a step to the side to let him in. FP doesn’t hesitate and walks into her home, marvelling at the mansion she owns, but looking disinterested. Yes, it looks great, and no FP doesn’t think he can afford it even if he works his ass off for two lifetimes, so in the end, FP doesn’t really care much about it. After all, this is nothing but a fake relationship with an end goal.

  
The mansion is as pristine on the inside as it looks on the outside, and some walls had large, floor to ceiling windows that let the light stream in, the ceiling itself are high, making every click and every clack of her heels reverberate through the house. It is almost empty save for the two of them, not even helpers are in sight, and the furniture is stately but sparsely and sporadically scattered inside the house.

  
Alice Cooper leads him to the den and tells him to sit down. She also asks him what he wants to drink, but he only tells her he’ll have what she’s having before he plops down her sofa without any grace whatsoever. She eyes him with slight contempt, but he only smirks at her, daring her to say anything about it.  
She doesn’t, and she only walks away to the kitchen. When she comes back, she has a tray in her hands, two glasses of something clear and fizzy in them.

  
“Gin and tonic,” she tells him as she hands him a glass and a coaster, making it clear that he isn’t to ruin the coffee table in front of him which probably costs more than his own life.

  
He accepts the proffered drink. “Thanks,” he tells her, showing off some manners before she actually begins to think that he is some kind of animal raised in the wild. “Nice house,” he adds when the silence goes on for a full minute.

  
She makes a tutting sound, and takes a sip of her drink. When she puts her glass down, she also says: “It is, isn’t it? I like it and I worked hard for it, but that bitch of a husband I used to have thought he can rip it off of me. Even if I killed him and claimed life insurance on him, it wouldn’t be enough for all the damage he has brought into my life. And he wants to steal my house? The house I made into my home, designed, and paid for? He must be out of his mind.”

  
It’s the most that Alice has said to him and although he is surprised, he makes a point to not show it in his face. It seems that when talking about his ex husband, she has a lot to say, so he lets her blow off steam. After all, he knows a thing or two about bitter separations and ex loved ones. He’s no stranger to that. He takes a long sip of his own drink and lets her speak.

  
Only when she quietens, does he add his two cents. “Did he really want to claim the house?” he asks. He tries to sound neutral, but if what she says is true, that she’s worked hard on this house and paid for it, then her husband must be a total asshole.

  
“The house yes,” Alice admits, nodding. “The land is his parents’ gift to us when we married, hoping for us to build something great in here or whatever. Well, I did, and that bastard did not, and then the motherfucker actually cheated on me and wanted to steal my house.”

  
Well, yep, Hal Cooper is an asshole, alright.

  
“Guess you made the right decision to dump his ass, then,” he tells her sincerely, looking at her. She looks back at him but then looks away less than 5 seconds later.

  
That millisecond, FP had felt, is charged with a current that even he couldn’t explain.

  
**. . . . .**

 

It is rather odd.

  
Alice doesn’t really like talking about Hal or her divorce—not necessarily because it hurts her to talk about it, although she admits in the comfort of her own mind that it does sting, but because it’s such a wasted time of her life that she doesn’t want to dwell into it that much. She’d been married to that rat for so many years, most of her youth had been spent with him that it’s hard not to look back and think about how much time she’d wasted and regret it.

  
Maybe, maybe, maybe...maybe if she’d made different decisions at so many points in her life, it would have turned out differently.

  
But as they say, there really is no use crying over spilled milk, so she’d rather just bury it all.

  
However, she finds herself now, sitting on her couch, drinking gin and tonic and talking to Forsythe Jones, of all people, about her marital issues. It isn’t like he’s involved in it in anyway, or her life for that matter, but sitting here, drink in hand and his willingness to listen to her at her disposal, it’s hard not to divulge much about the things she’s kept to herself.

  
She wonders now, though, as he looks at her and speaks words that sound so sincere, and the air gets charged and electric that she doesn’t really know what to make out of it, she wonders if it’s the right thing to do. She’s been wondering about this whole fake relationship the moment she has agreed to it, and really, she’s figured that this is a bad idea. A horrible, terrible idea that she can’t do anything but go along with, because she needs it for her career.

  
If only her stupid pig of a husband hadn’t tried to ruin her image in the public, then she wouldn’t have found it very hard to look for work. But he did, and so she is stuck to this solution.

  
“Alice? Alice?” she hears him say, snapping her out of her reverie. He is waving his hand in front of her face and she slaps it away, feeling embarrassed.

  
“What?” she snaps at him, pursing her lips.

  
“Are you okay?” he asks her with such genuine concern that it makes her concerned. Feelings should not, at all, be involved in all of this, especially not this early in the game. She doesn’t want to let anything fester that could make things go south in the end.

  
She frowns. “I’m fine,” she says pointedly and dismissively, but she can see the apprehension in his eyes.

  
“Why didn’t you just cancel this meeting if you weren’t feeling well?” he asks her point blank, and she struggles to recall the moment she had actually told him she isn’t feeling well. She realizes that she hadn’t really needed to say it since he has repeated twice in the last hour that she looks terrible.

She must look pretty terrible.

  
“I’m fine,” she insists. “I had been sick this weekend but I am starting to feel better, there was no need to delay this whole thing any further. It’s been about two weeks since we talked with Sierra and your friend Fred. It’s time to put our plans into action. There is no time to lose.”

  
She knows she’s right about that, and he sees the concurrence in his eyes. He nods at her, but she knows that he feels the same way she does. This whole red carpet romance is bullshit.

  
“What are we supposed to do today anyway?” he asks her, and it’s clear that he thinks this is pointless. She does, too, after all none of this is real, but Sierra thought it might be a good idea for them to get to know each other a bit to avoid awkwardness in the future.  
She shrugs. “We’re supposed to get to know each other today, I guess. That’s what Sierra’s told me,” she answers as honestly as she can before she takes her glass and takes a generous sip of her drink.

  
From her peripherals, she can see FP smirk condescendingly. “Are we supposed to pretend that we don’t know each other then and get on with this pitiful formality?” he asks her, and it makes her stop, suspends her hand midair and looks at him with fear in her eyes.

  
This is exactly why she hadn’t wanted to agree with this, amongst many other terrible repercussions. She cannot escape. But she’d thought...no, she doesn’t know what her thought process had been.

  
She clears his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters, disbelief clear in her tone, though even she herself knows how unconvincing she is right now.

There is no escape.

  
“Sure, if that’s what you say, Alice _Smith_ ,” he counters and sarcasm drips from his tone and bleeds through the otherwise silent house. His voice echoes through her brain and her heart races. Why’d she think this is a good idea? It clearly is a terrible one.

  
“Stop,” she says sternly, she doesn’t want any part of this game. “I don’t...We’re here for business, not the past whatever...If you can’t focus on that then we should just call this all out.”

He snorts. “I’m surprised you seem to even acknowledge that there is a past, and that you have one. You seem to have erased everything from your old life and fabricated something new.”

  
She simpers and simpers but cannot quite deny his words. It is true. She has fabricated a lot about her old life to fit in and she had erased any evidence there might be out there. She would be lying if she says she isn’t guilty.

  
“Remember, a snake might shed its skin, but it’s still a snake,” he remarks ominously, making her want to throw him out but she refrains. She knows he is right, and she doesn’t want to argue about it further. What she wants is for him to shut the fuck up.

  
“Are you done?” she asks him with irony and lifts an eyebrow at him in question and derision. She doesn’t need him of all people to start shit like this with her. “Because if you are, then you can go.”

  
FP lifts an eyebrow right back at her. “I thought we were here to get to know each other?” he asks her, throwing her words right back at her. “After all, I do not know you.”  
His words are taunting and she hates them.

She hates him.

  
She’s not in the mood for pleasantries anymore. “Get the fuck out of my house, Forsythe. I don’t want to see your face again,” she exclaims and then stands up from the couch, leaving him to find his own way out.

Hopefully, this is the last time she hears from him.

  
Hopefully.

  
**. . . . .**

 

She’s throwing him out, and instead of finding that offensive, he finds it rather amusing.

  
He can see the intense anger in her eyes, can read her well, and know that she’s not playing around. She’s all hard and tough on the outside, but he knows the effects of his words to and on her. For someone who has tried so hard to bury her past in the ground, someone showing up and throwing that past back in her face seems to be the worst thing.  
Up to this date, he doesn’t quite understand why she’d agreed to this. Had it been other people, another man, he would not have batted an eyelid, celebrities do this thing quite often, but him—a lowlife vocalist from a virtually unknown band—for him to be filling that spot seems odd. He knows the world would wonder as well.

  
Although, what puzzles him even more is the fact that she has willingly walked into this, knowing who she is going to be in it with. It isn’t like she’d be likely to forget who he is, and even if she can’t quite remember his name, his face should jag some buried memory in her. And that is something he has quite proved to himself when they’d met for the first time. And so, he wonders, wonders deeply, what has pushed her to do this...with _him_ of all people.

  
He doesn’t think he will get an answer, however, as he watches her walk away from him, leaving him to fend for himself. He doesn’t totally mind. He knows he has touched some nerve she doesn’t want to be touched, and it’s progress for him for now.  
One day, they will be able to talk about it, and he will be waiting then.

  
Hopefully, this is not the last he has seen of her.

  
Hopefully.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is a bit disconnected to the past 2 chapters and I understand that FP's turnabout is a bit weird but I will explain it somehow in the following chapters, dont worry too much.


End file.
